


Deal of a Lifetime

by darkrose



Series: Art of the Deal [4]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Gen, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last person in the galaxy Christopher Pike wants to see while he's recovering is his former patron--so naturally, she shows up to say hello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** This fic is set in the Star Trek Mirror Universe, which is a dystopic version of the Prime Star Trek universe that includes sexual violence and consent issues.
> 
> **Notes:** For the "Family" challenge on Star Trek Flashfic. For this version of the Mirrorverse, I'm sticking with canon as presented in Enterprise and TOS. Instead of following the DS9 version, however, I'm branching off after the TOS episode "Mirror, Mirror" and mostly going with the Mirrorverse history from Diane Duane's _Dark Mirror_. Also, everything I know about [Section 31](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Section_31) comes from Memory Alpha; any errors are mine.
> 
> "Suresh Modi" is the name I'm giving to Kal Penn's character who was very briefly in the _Star Trek_ movie. It's actually Penn's real-life middle and last name, but the character is entirely fictional.

Chris didn't really need help maneuvering the wheelchair, but having the security officer there to push him around was useful. The kid carried his sidearm and dagger like he knew how to use them, and antics on the _Narada_ notwithstanding, the ensign could probably get a shot off before Chris could draw his own weapon.

"What's your name, kid?" he asks after he's been wheeled into his apartment.

"Ensign Suresh Modi, Sir," the kid tells him. Chris gives him the once-over; he's pretty hot, but if he wants him for a bodyguard, it's best not to go there.

"And who's holding your leash? Gaila?" He's pleased to note that Modi's expression doesn't shift from bland politeness.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sir," he says.

Chris snorts. "Let's not play this game--it's boring. I know you're with 31. I want to know what your orders are and who your control agent is so that when you get the word to take me out I can make a decent counter-offer."

"Oh Christopher," he hears a very familiar voice say, "that's what I like about you--you're so refreshingly direct. It reminds me of George."

Chris clenches his jaw and counts to five. "Admiral Kirk. May I ask what you're doing in my quarters?"

Modi wheels Chris forward, putting him directly across from the chair now occupied by Winona Kirk. He has to admit that the black leather suits her more than command gold ever did.

"Do I need a reason to visit an old friend? Thank you, Modi; you can go now." She waits until the ensign leaves and smiles at Chris.

"You're looking well, Christopher, especially considering everything that's happened."

He closes his eyes. "I'm tired. It's been a long day and I just had a slug peeled off my spinal column a week ago. Do we have to do this now, M--Winona?"

She laughs, a sound that's always set his teeth on edge. "You were going to call me 'Ma'am', weren't you? How sweet."

"I'm not your boy anymore, _Admiral_," he snaps. "Now what the fuck do you want?"

Winona leans forward and backhands him across the mouth. "Language, Christopher," she says reprovingly. "And try not to forget that not only do I still outrank you, but that you're where you are because of my patronage."

Chris doesn't touch his face. Back when she was captain of the _Mayweather_ and he was her tactical officer, he always tried not to give her the satisfaction of goading him into a reaction; he's not about to change that now.

"I'm actually not here to see you, Christopher. I wanted to see my son receive his commendation," she says.

Chris frowns. "I didn't see you at the ceremony."

Winona waves a hand. "I thought it better to keep a low profile. It's Jim's day; I didn't want to be a distraction."

Remembering some of the offhand comments Jim's made during the past three years, it's Chris' turn to smile. "And it would look bad if he didn't want to be in the same room as you, wouldn't it? I bet that bugs the hell out of you, that I got him to enlist and do something with his life when you couldn't."

For an instant, Winona gets that ugly expression that she always used to get when anyone crossed her. With a visible effort, she relaxes and sits back in the chair.

"I admit, I'm impressed. If I'd realized how much Jim needed a daddy, I'd have talked to you about it a long time ago. Especially given your obsession with George, it certainly seems to be a good fit. However," she adds, glaring at him, "whatever you had going with Jim is now over."

"That's not a question," Chris says, smirking.

"No, it's not. He's in a very delicate position; everyone he's jumped ahead of to become captain of the Imperial flagship is going to be itching to take him down. The last thing he needs is rumors about him being too..." She pauses as if she's searching for the right word. Chris is more than happy to provide options.

"Submissive? Weak? Too much of a pain slut and a whore?" he suggests.

He pulls his chair closer as she lunges for him. With his dagger in one hand, he wraps an arm around her waist and yanks her off balance. She falls into his lap; he rests the blade of the dagger against her throat.

"If you so much as scratch me, you'll wish the fucking Romulans had killed you by the time I'm done with you, Christopher," she snarls.

"I know you won't believe me, but I never wanted you dead. If I had, we wouldn't be sitting here having this lovely chat." He bends down and kisses her forehead before shoving her off his lap and onto to floor.

"Here's the thing, Admiral: I don't need to fuck your son any more. I wanted to see if I could unlock his potential, to light a fire under him and get him to see that he could be something other than a dockside hustler. And I did."

Winona gets to her feet, brushing imaginary dust off the black leather. "He won't thank you for it, you know."

Chris grins and slides the knife home. "He already did. I asked him why he came back to get me when it would have been simpler just to let me die. He said, 'I'm not my mother.'"

She doesn't respond, but Chris can tell by the set of her shoulders that she's furious. She doesn't turn to look at him but she does pause when she gets to the door.

"Don't cross me, Christopher. You should know better." Chris can almost hear the implied slam as the door slides shut.


End file.
